My brother and me, well, to be cliché, we’re about as different as night and day. I’m an inch under six feet, he’s two or three inches over six feet. I’ve filled out a bit with age, I think he’s gotten even thinner. I’ve a lighter skin tone, he has a darker skin tone. My hair has darkened from blonde to brown over the years, his hair . . . I don’t know what color it is naturally nowadays. I have no “body art,” he has an eyebrow ring and paints his fingernails black. People who meet us together are always surprised to learn we’re brothers.
And we couldn’t be more different in personality, either. I like being alone, quietly with myself, even anonymity, he likes groups, loud music, and attention. I’m a writer and editor, he’s a rock drummer. People who get to know us together start questioning our claim to be related.
As kids and teenagers, our interests were so vastly different that sometimes it’s like we grew up in two different worlds. My music was pop and soft rock, his music was hard rock and metal. My hobbies were Dungeons & Dragons and computers, his hobbies were break dancing and trick biking. My dress and appearance leaned toward preppy, his leaned toward metalhead. We moved in social circles so separate that some of our friends never saw or knew anything about our brother. Granted, some of this separation came from being four and a half years older and younger than each other (I’m the older, he’s the younger). But still, we grew up in the same house, with the same parents.
I moved out of home at a younger age, but I always stayed within a few hours of my hometown. He lived at home for longer, but when he moved away, he moved the hell away — two states away. But part of our reasons for our chosen new homes is because my career lead me to the more technological part of the South, and his lead him to the more musical part.
If you’ve read the “Who’s Bullgrit” link at the top of this page, you know, basically, what I do for a living. My brother is a musician. A drummer. What? I CAN’T HEAR YOU, YOU’LL HAVE TO SHOUT! Sorry. That’s an inside joke. Drums, like gunshots, are much, much louder in person than you’d think from audio recordings.
“Brogrit” has been in a number of bands over the years, and toured through a few states in the South. His name and picture are on some CDs, and that’s pretty damn cool.
Our worlds are so different. I’m married with two children, he’s still single. My job is filled with quiet and solitude, his is filled with noise and crowds. But when we get together, really in our hometown or virtually through the Internet, we’re so much brothers. We’re competitive to a fault. Sadly, nowadays, we rarely get together, even through the ‘net.
A few years ago, we’d get online and play Day of Defeat together. In Day of Defeat, the players team up on either the American or German side in a WWII battle — it’s a squad-level combat, first-person shooter. There’d be up to 16 or so players per side, but with a random collection of players from around the world, there was no guarantee of any kind of team play — sometimes you couldn’t even hope for real team play. But when brogrit and I teamed up, it was loads of fun. We knew, absolutely, that we could each rely on the other to provide cover, support, and communication. I’ve never played an online game with anyone else who I totally meshed with that well. Our normal competitiveness seemed to fade away as we played together against the in-game enemies.
It’s interesting how brotherly rivalry works that way.
Bullgrit
bullgrit@totalbullgrit.com
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